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1/5/04 Tomorrow Belongs To Me
Hey, thought we'd greet the New Year on a quasi optimistic note, tomorrow does indeed belong to me (not you, not even us, me, it belongs to me). First one of these to come out within a week of the previous issue in 4 months, count yourselves blessed. I do. Count you blessed, that is. This is also the first one of these not to come out in the early am since last spring some time, I'm trying to get my shit turned around and have my days and nights coincide with the sun like the rest of you folk, so if I don't sleep one night- like last night- I'm just going to stay up all the next day and try to go to sleep the next night, instead of sleeping some during the day. What's Bill been up to? Well, missing the girls something fierce (but in a quasi-optimistic way), they were here for 10 days, and Jesus, this place really seems empty again. What's Bill drinking? Just green tea, been sticking to my plan to just drink good beer (for a grand total of 9 Heineken so far this year, whoopee), and not that much of it, at least until I get this aging (though not aged) beer soaked carcass back into something like fighting trim. The DF is working 2/6 in Ashland, 2/7 here in Charleston- be there or be the DF's mortal enemy forever, it's right here in CHARLESTON for Christ's sake, no excuses accepted- then 2/15 back in Cleveland, where they have the hardest floors in wrestling. And the best trainers, thank you very much Mr. Hand Wrapping Guy cos you fixed my thumb, I guess Bob and I didn't get it seated back in the socket exactly right, which I can't understand, since we're both brain surgeon material, but Mr. Wrapping Guy did, cos it's improved tons since then. What's Bill taking? Well, not EPHEDRA, thank you very much you shitting dumbasses who killed yourselves with it and fucked things up for the rest of us by getting it outlawed. As longtime readers know (in our third year and counting), I LOVED the stuff, best stimulant I've ever used in my life, never got a buzz, I just felt . . . alert. Very, very alert. I don't know how those guys died on it, they must've just been congenital fucking PUSSIES, cos I used to regularly take four times the recommended maximum dose for weeks and all I ever felt was great (boy, did I). Finally got some Tribulus Extreme Fuel today- only GNC in the valley that carries it is Town Center, and they've been out. I'll let you know next issue what I think. Hope everyone had a safe and Happy New Years Eve. I spent it home
alone, the girls both had parties to attend, I was okay with that, I've
spent many a NYE at home, though I have to say this is the first time
since I was in junior high that I
(THIS FROM A GUY WHO ADMITS TO DRINKING BEER CANS FULL OF HIS OWN PISS). That was can- okay, maybe it happened twice, I'm honestly not sure, but still . . . anyway, the only way I can stomach my oatmeal is with butter and salt, you sugar and milk people stay the fuck away from me, Nikki, dear child, in the CCIL days, used to make herself these bowls of bizarrely flavored instant oats, as she called them, vanilla jasmine surprise and shit like that, it always smelled like she was eating a bowl of cheap, Wal-Mart perfume. I was gagging even when I wasn't hung over. And while we're on breakfast, if you ever fix it for me, I also like my scrambled eggs runny, and don't you dare add any liquid to them, water or milk or whatever- Ron, you can do that splash of champagne thing, but only one time- I don’t care what that fat fairy James Beard said, or how your sainted mama/granny used to fix her scrambled eggs, KEEP THE FUCKING LIQUID OUT OF THEM, I mean it. Eggs is eggs, precious, and that's that. Throw in all the cheese you want, though.
Still along gastronomical lines, the Bill cooking for his parents experiment has begun, I went out there Sunday and fixed dinner for them. It's not that my mom is such a bad cook, as that she's an indifferent one. Other than a few of her childhood favorites, which she cooks up nicely, food doesn't mean anything to her- I used to think it was cos she'd destroyed her taste buds with her almost 50 year, 2-3 pack a day cigarette habit, which ended up killing her, no shit, she had a heart attack and flatlined 10/20/91, and they had to put the paddles to her and were on their last try when she resuscitated- but she hasn't smoked since then and she still hates to cook. Pop a couple cans of whatever on the stove and heat them up, or else something from a box, with no goddamn rhyme or reason to it other that what's easiest to throw together, and that's exactly what my mom will say, "Guess I'll throw dinner together," no fucking shit, Emeril, I went out there once a few years ago and for side dishes they were having Stovetop stuffing, instant mashed potatoes and Kraft macaroni and cheese, my God, what's so funny/sad is that Tina was telling me about stopping out there on a completely different night and they were HAVING THAT SAME MEAL- cook some meat, any meat, to the size and texture of a charcoal briquet- along with big dogs, deep water, driving, and just about every damn thing else, my mom is also terrified of cooked meat that shows the slightest trace of color other than burnt-and supper's ready. Yeesh. I fixed chili cos I know my Dad loves it, and I make really good chili, but holy shit, WHAT WAS I THINKING? My dad could fart you out of the house on a diet of cream of wheat and tap water, on two big bowls of chili- dear God. And while his mood has improved, his hearing hasn't. He said something Sunday, I forget what, and I said, "You're a year behind" and he went CRAZY, screaming and yelling at me- B: Jesus Christ, WHAT? I just said you were a year behind. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. It was brought up again my moving out there. I feel like a heel- (WELL, YOU ARE A HEEL). No, my friend, you're a heel. Anyway, I know it sounds selfish, they are my parents after all, and have been damn good ones, but I DON'T WANT TO. I just see myself getting trapped out there, them breaking down and it getting so I HAVE to stay out there and care for them, and like I say, I know it makes me sound like a prick, but I don't think I'm up for the job. Then again, as I've said before, when it comes to doing for my parents, Lori's too busy trying to take care of her own, and Tina, while she may now be Tina with a smile, is still fucking Tina- if I don't do it, it wont get done. so where are we at then? Because I can't let them go without, or depend on the charity of strangers. Moving in out there, right now, anyway, would also feel too much to me like giving up, like I'm admitting I don't have my own life or future anymore. We'll see, it's not like I have to make a decision tonight or anything. I do think I'm coming to the end of my run out here on Harmon's Creek. In a practical/financial sense, if I was going to bail I should have done it last fall, cos the electric bill has already started that horrendous exponential winter thing- $50 in November, $100 in December, I have no doubt January's will be around $200 and that's with all the mild weather, last winter it was topping out at over $250. The good still outweighs the bad out here- I will never again find another place this nice for anything close to what I'm paying now- but I moved out here with the idea that I was going to start over, and try and make it a new home for me and the girls, and obviously I didn't do a good enough job, or at the very least, it wasn't what they wanted. Now that they're established in Baltimore and won't be coming back here to live, this place just doesn't feel in any way like a home to me, but rather just one more thing that didn't work out. It's just where I sleep. When I sleep. I'll go back to what used to be the girls rooms and look at how empty they are now and realize they'll never be coming back to them, other than for an overnight, or maybe a week at holidays, they're not the girls rooms anymore at all, those are in Baltimore, and I get such a profound sense of sadness at another fucking failure on my part that it's all I can do to hang on to my quasi- optimistic stance. But hang I do. Where to go, though? Aye, there's the rub. Again, it's a decision I don't have to make right away, and won't for months, I'd want to have a big going away bash out here anyway when the weather's nicer. So . . again, we'll see. Joe and I met Vito and Joe S. and Joe C. (AWF promoter) down in Ashland last Saturday night (this is where most of those 9 Heinekens come in) to watch the OCW show there at the Armory- it was terrible, worst independent card I've ever seen in my life, these pathetic fucks were boring and incompetent as hell, and in case you think this is just professional jealousy, Joe felt the same way. The top of the card was Ivan Koloff, still a very gracious and neat guy, got to say "Hey" to him briefly, but he's WAY too fucking tore down to still be getting in the ring- Joe noted, "He walks just like your Dad", and he does, that "I'm all eat up with arthritis" shuffle/limp, versus- dear God in Heaven- Jimmy Valiant. Jesus. Jason, we thought he looked bad way back in '98 when we saw him at Watt Powell. He was Charlie fucking Atlas compared to the way he looks now- he maybe weighs 150 pounds at best, and 50 pounds of that is tattoo ink, at first I said he looked like Johnny Winter, then changed it to Mr. Burns wearing a Santa Claus beard. Sad, and scary.
Joe and I used to do a damn good version of the SAHB's "Midnight Moses", never took it out, which is a shame, Joe sang it and did a good job, same with Mott's "Rock And Roll Queen", another excellent practice room song we never played out, have no idea now why not, we had tons of those practice only songs, I guess we should've gigged more, but it was such a pain in the ass trying to get gigs- and get everyone, especially Bob F- there, that I just quit bothering. Alex died in '82 at the age of 47 (ulp) of what I read was a double heart attack. I don’t know if that meant he had two attacks to the same heart, or he had two hearts. The way he performed, probably the latter. RIP, Alex. What's Bill been reading? Nothing worth recommending lately, every now and then I'll pull out that GD Tapers guide and read 10-12 pages- all I can do at one sitting, that stuff gets me so koogle brained I don’t need to get high. Obsessive and repetitive, that. Haven't watched any good movies this past week, watched some romance Western thing I can't remember the name of out at Joe and Laura's when the girls and I stopped out there last week, but I hated it, I can take formula up to a point but this one was truly pointless, after 2 minutes you know EXACTLY how the rest of the movie is going to go- and you're right. So why bother making the damn thing? Money, I guess. Still sucked, though. Don't see anything too great coming on this week, some decent stuff, "Murder Inc.", but it comes on at noon so most of you can't watch it, "Kiss Of Death" comes on Thursday 1/8 at 8 pm on FMC, another classic Richard Widmark performance- Alex Harvey put him in a song and pronounced it Hwidmark, damn, I miss that guy- on Friday 1/9 there's "Take A Hard Ride" and "Vindicator" back to back, starting at 10 am- hey, you might be home, sick or something- and then "Naked Lunch" at 10 that night again on FMC, I tried watching it once and got bored, but I may try again since I'm getting ready to start that William Burroughs biography. Hey, "TAHR" and "V" come on again at midnight Friday, you can go to work, and just catch them then. Don't see anything else I'd recommend (that I haven't in the past), Sci-Fi is doing all giant shark and crocodile movies Saturday, there are FIVE of the bastards, holy fuck, only tried to watch one of them one time- "Blood Surf", cool title but I dumped on it early cos IT SUCKED, I ask again, HOW DO YOU GET A CONTRACT TO WRITE A SCRIPT FOR THESE SCI-FI NETWORK ABOMINATIONS, I COULD SHIT RORSCHACH BLOCKS THAT WOULD BE BETTER THAN THESE MOVIES?!? Well, one way may be to sell a novel of your own, and along those lines I sent the up front query stuff for Drains- synopsis, first 3 chapters- to Ace books yesterday (Monday. I guess that's still today, how strange it feels to be doing this before midnight), along with a letter telling Tor they need to shit or get off the pot, it's been a fucking year, for fuck's sake. They may well have told me six months ago in that communication my Dad threw away that they weren't interested, who knows?
No Comics Corner again this issue, when I feel it, it'll come. I do apologize for calling Dex, a person I've never met, "a little puke" a few issues back, he informs me he's neither little nor a puke. Sorry, but with that screen name of Dexter, and your nerd boy love of comics (which I admittedly share) I just see you as looking like our boy on Dexter's Laboratory. I'll tell you what, how about you send me a picture of yourself, and if you look like some hot, naked woman (guys, if you haven't checked out the photo of Angelina Jolie in last issue on the web, do yourselves a favor, godamighty), I'll run it in the newsletter. No Tera Patrick however, not that she's not hot, but dreamdipper (hey, girl) beat you to it way back when.
Everyone remember the 2/7 card and mark it on your calendars, hopefully by next issue we'll have a flier to send along, the DF is still going against Screaming Mean Joe Sexton for the Charleston All Pro Hardcore Title, for those of you who remember Screamin' as the pathetic Hannibal that the DF pulverized back in May, he's put on 30 pounds of muscle since then- asked him how when I saw him the other night, he gave me this complex answer I couldn't understand that started with, "First you do all negatives-", all negatives, shit, right down my alley. The DF can still wrestle rings around him, though, so not to worry.
I'm invited over to Doug and Rosa's later this week- need to call and confirm my reservation- to help them destroy some 2x4's with all the throwing knives and spikes and tomahawks that they got for Christmas, so any of you who want to see any of the Moore family again, or at least with all their ears and noses and appendages and without gaping holes where Bill went, "ah, dammit, it slipped out of my hand" probably should get by there soon. Time to die. I mean, time to go. I may get "Bill Vs. ETC" done tonight, it is getting a bit late if you've been up for 38 hours like I have. If not tonight, soon. Take care, all. The babe in his cradle is soundly asleep You’re a queer's behind. Later Bill
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The
sun on the meadow is summery warm 
wasn't invited out anywhere. Am I crying
about it? Not at all. Drank some beer- had most of a case of bad old Bud I
needed to finish up before the new year, you know, get it out of the
house, borrowed some of my mom's CDs since I didn't get any for Christmas,
sat around listening to Johnny Mathis- "Chances Are", that
fucker can sing wonderful, wonderful, and Tom Jones (doing my Tom Jones
dance, it's not unusual, oh baby, it sure is, took off my boxers and threw
them at myself) and Dolly Parton. No shit, and don't laugh, I like Dolly
quite a bit, and not just for the obvious, which are on the verge (ON THE
VERGE?!) of being even too much for me, but for her wit and humor, she's
just smart as all hell, and hard working in a good old American by your
bootstraps (and implants) kind of way, and she's a damn fine songwriter,
never goes for the lazy/easy rhyme, and even though thousands of karaoke
wannabes have destroyed the damn thing and made it this ugly, schmaltzy
joke, her own version of "I Will Always Love You" is a beautiful
song, and never fails to put a tear in this soft boy's eye.
Trying to do the eating well thing- I normally do eat healthy, my
problem is more with not eating at all (and if I see one more Atkins/low
carb ad I'm gonna fucking scream). Kroger had tuna on sale for 39 cents a
can, bought a hundred cans the other day. Should last me abut a month.
Been forcing myself to eat breakfast every day since the first, a bowl of
oatmeal, two eggs, poached or boiled, big glass of skim milk, big glass of
orange juice w/protein powder. I actually hate oatmeal, which may surprise
some of you who used to see me eat it by the bucketful when we worked
together at CCIL, it's one of those things I eat cos I know it's in my
best interest, fiber and all, good for the gut. Some of my elderly friends
have actually recommended Metamucil, saying they take it, which is not
something I think I'd be admitting-
Watching Martha Stewart the other day- she came on after my sweetie
Rachael Ray and I couldn't reach the remote and didn't want to get up- and
she said "I always put a teaspoon of sugar in my pee water".
Jesus, I never thought of that, she IS high class, it probably goes down a
lot better that way. Though she may have meant pea water, I don't know,
and don't much care. And for the person who asked me if I thought she was
hot- NO, Lord, if you do, seek help immediately, check yourself in
somewhere, or at least call a hotline. MARTHA STEWART? Oh shudder, I'd
sooner do a hole in the dirt (and have, actually).
What's Bill listening to? The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, another
(along with last issue's Mott) just totally fantastic early 70's band.
They were so goddamn original, wildly eclectic covers, Jacques Brel to the
Coasters, as well as the above quoted "Tomorrow", their own
songs were even better, great, great shit like "The Faith
Healer" ("Let me put my hands on you/Let me put my . . . hands .
. . on . . . YOU"), the band could all play their asses off,
guitarist Zal Cleminson in pre-Kiss Harlequin face paint, they could crank
out the hard stuff with the best of them, but could play all this other
weird stuff as well.
And then there was Alex. He was this rubbery faced Scottish NUT, sang
like Bon Scott with a Scots accent, wrote all these songs about this comic
book character Vambo, used to spray paint Vambo Rools on the backdrops,
came out with this enormous leather bound book chained to a podium that
he'd open up and sing insane shit like "The Hot City Symphony"
like he was preaching it from the Bible, he'd frequently pull a woman's
stocking over his head like some retro holdup guy, I read an old NME
review which said he then "stuck a stocking in each cheek as well in
a vain attempt to make himself even more hideous". What a guy, what a
band, I saw them around 74/75 open for a fading Jethro Tull and just
absolutely DESTROY Tull, people- well, mostly me, but I wasn't alone by
any means- were hollering "Alex!" all through JT's set.
I was going to add a funny story here- people been clamoring for more,
I swear, I'm flattered, SEND ME SOME FUCKING MONEY, how about- but instead
I think I'll do it as a document and append it. Stay tuned for "Bill
Vs. Grandma (you've already read that part, it was the 
I thought Dex was pissed off cos I hadn't heard from him for a while
after the little puke crack, but he said he'd been deathly ill with the
flu. Well, Dex, let Dr. Bitner tell you too late, wash your hands after
using the loo. It's something that was pounded into my head so much when I
was a sprat to where it's automatic for me now- not something we can all
say, eh, Joe?- and I've never had the flu in my fucking life. Had pleurisy
once though, that sucked. Hurt. And if you, or Joe for that matter, want
to ask me how you could get flu germs on your dick, well, I can think of
one way off the top of my head but we're not going to discuss it.
Found out today Tommy Rich won't be there, sucks, I was way looking
forward to it, but at least he told us he wouldn't show, apparently he's
burned a lot of people lately, including JT, taking travel money up front
and then not showing up. Not sure who we'll replace him with at this
point. The DF will be appearing with his entourage, The Army Of Darkness,
including a Death Falconnette, and his Frenchy Frog manager, Francois
Fairy Cheeks, or whatever he ends up calling himself. In all honesty, I'm
not particularly thrilled with the DF having a French manager- my hatred
for those Gallic asswipes is not affectation in any way, shape, or form, I
genuinely despise those stinking pricks, and even an association as
tenuous as having my fake wrestling manger be a Frog is not something I'd
choose myself. However, I want my manager to be happy in his work and he's
chosen French, and I do concede a French manager will definitely be a big
wind up for the crowd, and that's always a very good thing when you're the
DF.